Three times Natla's Hair Distracted Lara and One Time it Really Didn't
by Asynca
Summary: Based on the prompt: "Every time Lara sees Natla, Natla's got different hair." F/F


Three times Natla's Hair Completely Distracted Lara and One Time it Really Didn't

* * *

By Asynca

Using my own remix of the characters.

For Pugletto, who said, "I have this headcanon that every time Lara meets Natla, her hair is different and Lara is like…. WTF."

* * *

ONE

* * *

The last time the World Archeology Congress ran, I was eighteen years old and right in the middle of my A-Levels. Ironically, that was also the year it was in England. My physics exam was on the same day as the seminars on East Asian topics and _Miyozo Yamazaki_ was one of the speakers. He was in his seventies at the time and I wasn't certain I'd get another opportunity to hear him in person.

"This is _awful,_" I said, lying on the carpet in the room Sam and I shared at the boarding school. My physics book was open beside me but I hadn't even looked at it. "How on earth am I going to concentrate on _inertia _when one of the greatest Japanese archaeologists of all time is speaking ten miles up the road?"

Sam was on her stomach on the bed, probably on Facebook. Lately her favourite pastime had been stalking one of her exes and getting angry about everything he did. "I'll take you to my doctor, if you want," she offered.

I looked over at her. "I don't think any antidepressant in the world is strong enough for how bad I'm going to feel when _he dies_ and I didn't hear any of his lectures."

She rolled her eyes. "Lara," she said, speaking to me as if she was speaking to a little girl. "There's this thing called 'medical deferral'. If you're really sick, they'll let you take the test another time." I stared at her. "We'll go get you a certificate, ditch the exam and you can go listen to your old Japanese guy."

I'd never done anything like that before in my life. "No," I said. "It's far too obvious! I've been talking about the congress for _months_."

Sam rolled her eyes and started typing something. "Lara Croft would _never_ ditch an exam," she said. "The only question your physics teacher is going to ask is 'Where do I send the flowers?'." She tilted her head at the screen. "Hey, which do you think sounds better: 'Beach Volleyball? Does the regular team wear too many clothes or something?' or 'Is that sand in your mouth?'?"

"Sam," I said. "He's not worth it." I looked back at the ceiling. "Oh, my God, I can't believe I'm actually considering doing this!"

"I know he's not worth it," Sam said, typed something and victoriously pressed enter. "But I still hate him." She closed the lid of her laptop. "I'll take you into my clinic tomorrow. They're great."

In my mind, I had this image of the doctor laughing in my face and telling me to get back to school. He didn't, though. He and Sam just chatted away to each other like they were old friends and somewhere in the appointment he handed me a slip of paper that listed me as suffering from 'a severe medical condition'.

I showed it to Sam on the way to the congress. "'Severe medical condition'," she said. "I'm going to spread a rumour that it's syphilis."

"Good luck with that," I said. I was absolutely certain no one would believe her.

I had been feeling horribly guilty about lying to my teachers, but as we walked through the big iron gates of the British Museum that feeling completely disappeared. It was replaced by excited butterflies. The way I felt, I could have _skipped_.

Sam filmed it me rushing up the stairs. I turned around to where she'd stopped at the entrance, camera pointed at me. "Come on!" I said, gesturing at her to follow me. "The quicker we register, the more we can hear!"

"'Oh, my God!'" Sam said, imitating my accent with absolutely no success we went inside. "'Quick, Sam, I might _miss something!'" _ She changed her tune as soon as we made it all the way to the conference centre, though. There must have been a lot of universities participating this year, because there were _a lot_ of students there. "_Hel-lo_," Sam took off her sunglasses and surveyed the crowd around us. "I've changed my mind, this was a _great_ idea."

I looked over to see what she was so excited about and saw her flashing those perfect teeth at a group of male students. My eyes couldn't have rolled any further back in my skull. "_Sam_," I said at the back of my throat, taking her arm and dragging her into the registration area.

After we had paid, I spent a good fifteen minutes with my head buried in program, going through a arduous process of elimination for which lectures I wanted to attend. Meanwhile, Sam wandered up to the group of boys she'd spotted before. When I was done, not even texting her was enough to pry her away from them. I had to actually walk over there to retrieve her. "Sam," I said as approached the group, "The first one starts in," I checked my phone, "Seven minutes."

She was in the middle of a gratuitous laugh. "Hey, boys," she said. "This is my friend, Lara."

Four sets of eyes rested on me, and at least three of them dropped straight into my cleavage. The fourth one was probably a legs man. "Hi," I said awkwardly, and then looked back at Sam. "Let's get moving. I want to get good seats."

"Trust me," one of the men said, "History isn't going anywhere. You want to have lunch with us instead?" Sam laughed with him. My eyes were going to get sore from rolling.

"No," I said. "I want to go hear about new excavation technology. But thank you." I _looked_ at Sam.

"Party's over, guys," Sam said, shooting at least one of them a wink. "Friend me on Facebook." When we were out of earshot, she was still chuckling.

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Lara, those guys were archaeology students, and one of them's doing masters in applied geophysics. They're _totally_ up your alley."

I didn't want any of them up my anything. "Not interested," I said, leading her into one of the lecture theatres and nearly colliding with an immaculately dressed woman. "Sorry!" I said as I stepped out of her way and then turned back to Sam. "I didn't miss an exam to flirt with boys from some university."

Sam sighed. "You're the only person I know who'd ditch an exam to go to _more lectures._" She was dragging her feet. "At least come have dinner with us all tonight. There's at least one guy I'm sure you'll be interested in."

A woman's voice spoke from behind us, startling us both. "Perhaps her interests differ from yours," she said smoothly.

We turned. The woman I had nearly collected was standing in the aisle, watching us. She was wearing a dress-suit with a silk scarf, six inch heels and had her straight blonde hair in a loose ponytail. She was also _very _pretty. I felt something that might have been envy; I could never pull 'stylish' off like she so effortlessly did.

"I'm sorry?" Sam said, sounding a little annoyed. "What do you know about Lara's interests?"

She woman smiled cordially. "Only that I obviously share them," she said. I thought for a second I understood what she was implying and I felt very, very uncomfortable. Before Sam could go off at her, she fanned her arms out. "Look around us," she said. "We're surrounded by amazing research and cutting edge archaeological technology. The WCA is practically the Olympics of archaeology. What's not to be interested in?"

I let out a breath I'd been holding Sam may have, too. "I know," I said, feeling a smile rise to my own lips. "I was _so_ _jealous_ when my dad wouldn't let me go to the last one with him. I cried for two whole days."

She sauntered up to us. "Your 'dad'?" she said.

Here we go, I thought. "Richard Croft," I said. "I'm Lara Croft."

Recognition dawned on her perfect face. "Ah," she said. "_The_ Richard Croft. I remember his thesis on Cambodian Civilisations. It remember thinking it was a masterpiece correct in every detail, and believe me, I'm not easily impressed." Despite the fact she was speaking about my father, I felt very pleased she was impressed. I may even have blushed a little. "So, are you presenting research here, as well?"

Sam snorted.

I made a face. "No," I said. "I'm still a student."

She nodded. "At Cambridge, of course?"

Sam was having serious trouble smothering laughter.

"At Staffordshire Secondary. I'm in sixth."

The woman very easily paid no attention at all to Sam. "That explains the comment your friend was making earlier about missing exams," she said, and took a USB key from out of her blazer pocket. She held it up as she walked between us and down the aisle. "My presentation will be worth it, I promise." She shot a little smile at me over her shoulder.

_She_ was an archaeologist? She looked like a corporate manager of some kind. I'd have expected her to tell me she ran a bank for a living, not picked through soil. My jaw was open as I watched her wander up to the lectern and plug in her USB. The IT attendant rushed over to assist her.

"You can put your eyes back in your sockets now," Sam told me, waving a hand in front of my face. I shook myself out of it.

"I can't believe she's an archaeologist," I said. "I mean, look at her."

Sam was looking at _me_. "I think you're doing enough looking for both of us," she said. I glared at her, but she was grinning. "All I can say is: _girlcrush_." She lifted up her phone.

I pushed it away. "_No_," I said. "No Facebook. People will think you're serious. Come on, let's sit down."

Sam was laughing all the way to our seats, and hopped straight onto her phone anyway as soon as we'd relaxed into them. I did look over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't spreading in _other_ rumours about me, but she was just checking to see if any of the students had friended her yet.

I looked in the program for the name of the speaker. "Jacqueline Natla," I said. "CEO of Natla Technologies, I knew it. I knew she wasn't a plain old archaeologist."

"Yeah?" Sam looked up from her phone for a moment. "I know that name. I think my dad has shares in her company. They do mining or something."

As it turned out, I never found out what the 'or something' was, because before the woman started speaking, she let down her ponytail and shook out her hair. I'd never say it to Sam, but in that movement she looked like a movie star. Her hair was so beautiful it looked airbrushed. She swung it around inadvertently as she spoke, turning elegantly between the slides at the audience. At one point she leant on the lectern and it cascaded over her shoulder and into her cleavage.

I sat up straight. When I put my hands on my cheeks, they were hot. Okay, maybe Sam was spot on about the 'girlcrush' thing. I glanced beside me; Sam was paying absolutely _no_ attention to me and was chatting away to someone on her phone.

For the rest of the lecture, I resolved to look directly at the slides and not pay any attention to Jacqueline Natla.

It didn't work, and when she came over at the end to say goodbye to us, I turned a very embarrassing shade of red.

"Worth it?" she asked.

"Totally," Sam said, holding up her phone. "I think I just picked up."

The woman ignored her. I opened my mouth and closed it again. "Yes," I said. I still had no idea what I'd listened to. "It was interesting."

There was something smug about her smile. She reached into her blazer and held something out at me. It took me a few moments to realise it was a business card. "Well, if you'd like to learn more about what I do," she said. "I'd be happy to get my PA to book us for dinner, I'll be at Rochefords. Here are my details."

As she walked away, her lovely hair slapped gently her back.

Sam didn't look impressed. "Please tell me you are not ditching dinner with four of the hottest men in college to drool over Corporate America's answer to Rapunzel."

I gave her a look. "It might be interesting," I decided. I then worried about whether or not the woman would figure out I hadn't been paying attention to her presentation. I could probably download slides from somewhere. "Dad was always saying it's good to make contacts. We might end up crossing paths in the field."

Sam took the card off me and examined it for a moment. "Rochefords," she said. "Is it a Seafood Restaurant? Because I know what's on the menu."

I smacked her. "_Sam!_ Can you _not_? Oh, my God!" I picked up my backpack and deliberately hit her again with it as I slung it over my shoulder. "_Fine_, I'll come have dinner with you and your friends. I'll sure I'll see that lady again at some point, anyway."

Sam pumped her fist in the air. "Yes!" she said, and then held up her phone again. "I'll let them know you're coming!"

* * *

TWO

* * *

As it turned out we _did_ cross paths again. It was four years later, but it wasn't at a congress this time. It was actually at a coffee shop in the West End, and I almost didn't recognize her.

It was a Sunday morning and I'd been leaning over the counter, waiting for the barista to finish the coffees I'd ordered Sam and I. I'd pulled up my sleeve and was examining the scar left by the grazing bullet, wondering if it was going to be ugly or impressive when it healed.

"Now _that_ wound looks like it has a story," a familiar voice said. "I'd ask you to tell me about it, but I think I could just turn on the television."

I looked up, surprised. The woman standing next to me was wearing a tailored coat with a thick woollen scarf and had her naturally blonde hair cropped to hardly more than an inch from her scalp. To compensate for the severe hair, she had elaborate earrings and red lipstick.

I was busy being intimidated by her bold haircut and didn't pay very much attention to her face. She could see I didn't recognise her straight away, and because of that she gave me a look that could have been _admiration_. "Jacqueline Natla," she reminded me. "We met at the last WCA."

I made an 'ah' shape with my mouth. It all fell into place.

Her eyebrow flickered. "You never called me," she continued, but there was a slight grin on her red lips. She was joking. "I'm hurt."

I laughed a little awkwardly. "I was eighteen years old," I said, playing along. "I couldn't stay out late, our school had strict rules about curfew."

"Well, those strict rules didn't stop you from not attending compulsory exams," she said. Her eyes twinkled. "I wonder what other rules I could have convinced you to break."

The barista cleared his throat. He'd put my coffees in on the counter and there was a queue of people waiting behind me. I quickly took out a few coins and I went to pay for them. He gave me a strange look. "Your friend already paid," he said, and then called out to the people behind me, "Flat white with two?"

"Sam?" I asked, surprised, looking back towards the doorway to where she was waiting.

"No," Jacqueline said. "Me." She took them from the counter. "I'll help you carry them. We can have a chat about a project I'm working on."

"A project?" I repeated as I followed her, wondering if she was soliciting for staff. Well, I wasn't working on anything at the moment… "Are you advertising?"

She laughed once as we walked through the door to the back room. "I don't advertise," she said. "I recruit, and I'm _very _selective." She gave me a sidelong look. "Now what was it I heard about Lara Croft discovering the lost kingdom of Yamatai?"

I raised my eyebrows and let out a long breath. "Probably not even a fraction of what actually happened," I said.

There was something about her expression that suggested that she knew what I was talking about. "I can imagine," she said. "I hear the weather in the area is very," she paused, looking for the right word, "tempestuous."

I stared at her for a moment. Did she know?

"Lara?" Sam's voice distracted me from our conversation. She was waiting for me in a little booth near the fireplace. It was the one we always sat in. "Who is— _oh_." She did _not_ look pleased to see my 'friend'.

I smiled brightly anyway as we walked up to the booth and Jacqueline put Sam's coffee in front of her. "Sam, do you remember—"

"Yes," Sam interrupted me. She looked her up and down. "You cut all your hair off."

I _winced_. It was unlike Sam to be anything except friendly to basically everyone. I found her behaviour a little odd, but I didn't know what to make of it.

To her credit, Jacqueline laughed and touched the back of it. "Yes," she said. "I wanted to try something new. In my line of work, I _am_ my brand. I need to keep my image fresh. Do you like it?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Sam looked as if she was about to give her honest opinion of it. I gave her a hard stare and she backed down. "Sure, why not," she said sullenly, and then sat back against the padded wall of the booth and sipped at her coffee.

Jacqueline swept her coat out from underneath her and sat gracefully opposite me. "No cell this time?" she asked Sam. "I'm sure there are still plenty of eligible men in London you could arrange engagements with while _I_ speak with Lara." Now _that_ was clearly rubbing something in Sam's face. What, though, I couldn't tell.

Sam clearly could, and it made her even more withdrawn. I put my hand on her arm but she snatched it away.

_Fine_, I thought. Be like that. I turned my attention back to Jacqueline as she spoke to me. "As strange as this may sound, Lara, you're actually just the person I'm looking for."

Sam mumbled something, but I continued to ignore her. _That_ sounded like a job offer. "Oh?"

She smiled. "I'm doing excavations in Norway. We've uncovered some very interesting Norse carvings deep in the rocks under Svalbard."

I made a face. Maybe this wouldn't end up being a job after all. "I don't know much about Norse Mythology," I confessed.

She smiled. "Good, because I've already hired experts and project leads," she said. "What I need is someone who can do leg work." She leaned back, watching me carefully. "Someone who isn't afraid of _surprises_."

The way she said 'surprises' concerned me. "Depends on what sort of surprises they are," I said. "But leg work is something I'm good at."

Jacqueline's eyes dipped beside the table where one of my legs was bent. "Well, you do have all the right equipment."

Sam _groaned_. I kicked her.

This time, Jacqueline didn't ignore her. "Well, I won't detain you too long on a Sunday morning," she said as she stood from the table. "I'll send you a copy of the contract to have a look at. I think you'll find our proposal very interesting."

As she left, I realised something. "Do you have my address?" I called out to her. When she turned around, the smile on her lips displayed a measure of amusement. From this angle and with her short hair, her neck looked impossibly long. It was like something I'd expect to see on a catwalk. "You know," I tried to clarify, sounding more and more uncertain, "for the contract."

She laughed shortly. "I found you here, didn't I?"

* * *

THREE

* * *

The next time we met, _I_ found _her. _

It had taken me a matter of a few short days and several phone calls for me to barge past the concierge, march directly into her hotel room and kpush her up face-first against a wall.

"You _lied_ to me!" I accused her, and then panicked for a second. The person I had bailed up in front of me had her hair cut in a shoulder-length light-brown bob. Jacqueline Natla had _blonde _hair. I had taken a step back and begun to apologise when the woman turned around and it _was_ Jacqueline Natla.

She guessed my confusion. "I thought I'd try something a little different. What do you think?"

I made a face and I shoved her roughly up against the wall again.

She tilted her head in concession as if she hadn't just been assaulted. "I agree. Brown isn't my colour." She nodded at the refreshments cart. "Would you like a drink?"

I put my forearm against her neck and really tried _very hard_ to not just murder her on the spot. "Sam was _nearly killed _because you didn't mention Grindl would be guarding the altar."

"To be fair, I did mention 'surprises'," she said. "Not being the expert in Norse mythology I wasn't able to say exactly what they'd be." Her expression told a completely different story than her lips.

I put my face right up to hers. "I should kill you right now."

She smiled slightly. "You can try," she said, and then suddenly I found myself on the floor with a Jimmy Choo against my temple. It didn't stay there for long; I watched it step back onto the carpet in front of my face and then wander away. She casually poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc from the trolley. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some?" She looked at the bottle. "This is an excellent year."

I sat up, dazed. I would never have guessed she was any sort of fighter. "I'll think just let you drink it all," I said. And then when your reflexes are dull, I'll kill you, I thought.

She laughed as if I'd said something genuinely funny. "I don't get drunk," she told me. "So if you were thinking of taking advantage of me, you're welcome to start right now." She held her glass up in salutation to me, and then drank. After she'd swallowed, she licked her lips and examined the contents of her glass. "This really is an excellent year. I'll have to tell my PA to order a crate from the cellar."

I stood. Watching her completely disregard my anger at what she'd done to Sam and I was _infuriating_. I wanted to take that bottle from her hand, smash it on the edge of the bed and thrust it into her beautiful face so I could finally stop looking at those lips.

As if reading my mind, she sat on the edge of the bed and took off her blazer. She was wearing a thin satin singlet with shoe-string straps underneath, and it fell helplessly onto all her violent curves. She smiled at me. "Before we get started, you might like to take a shower," she said. "I don't think the hotel would be too happy to find their Egyptian cotton covered in dirt and blood stains."

_That_ was the final straw. I ploughed through the trolley and leapt over her, pinning her against the pristine white duvet with a hand on her throat. "Let's find out," I said, reaching down for my axe.

It was gone.

In the process of being knocked down, Jacqueline had somehow managed to not spill any of the wine. She placed the glass delicately on one of the four posters. "If you're looking for your axe," she said. "It's over there." She was looking towards the floor.

Stupidly, I looked, and she flipped me. I could have _groaned_ at how obvious that play was, and I still fell for it. She sat across my hips in her tailored pants, the top of her singlet gaping and displaying a bra that looked like it would be perfectly at home in Victoria's Secret catalogue. To say it was overflowing with cleavage would not have been an understatement. It looked at any moment like it might give up, and part of me wanted to wait for that moment.

"Get off me," the rest of me said slowly.

She was still smiling. Surprisingly, she obliged, retrieving her wine glass from the bed head. Then, as if she didn't have someone trying to kill her in her hotel room, she neatly removed her heels and went to sit in the armchair opposite the television.

I was so surprised I just lay there for a moment. "Just like that?"

She glanced over her shoulder at me. "Lara," she said. "One day you will _beg_ me to do the exact opposite."

I very much doubted that. I was perfectly happy with Sam: someone who _didn't_ put my life in danger and who was the sweetest, funniest person I had ever met.

It must have shown on my face. "You'll see," she said cryptically, and then crossed her legs and turned the television on as she took another sip of her wine.

There wasn't much else I could do; she'd made it very clear I wouldn't be killing her. Before I walked out of the hotel, I took that bottle of wine she loved so much and poured it out all over the Egyptian cotton. It was a pretty infantile thing to do, but it _felt good_.

As I left, I walked past the concierge to where Sam had parked illegally and was in an argument with the hotel manager.

"Let's go," I said to her, smiling apologetically at the man who was shouting at her.

"You have the same amount of blood on you now as when you went up," she observed as we got back into her car. "Does she even bleed?"

I climbed into the passenger seat. "I didn't find out," I confessed.

Sam reversed into a pot plant, swore, and then tried again. "Should I ask?"

I made a face. "Probably best if you don't."

She stopped, giving me a very suspicious stare. "Did you—"

"_No_."

Squinted at me for a second, and then kept driving out of valet. "Good," she said. "Because then _I'd_ have to try and kill her, and we all know how well that would probably go."

* * *

AND THAT OTHER TIME

* * *

When I came to, I wasn't in bed beside Sam.

I was… somewhere cold and dark, and my head was throbbing. I flinched as a drop of water landed on my face. Somewhere cold, dark and_ damp_.

I tried to move my arms and discovered they were tied behind my back; I seemed to be in an office chair, but I doubted I was in an office. My ankles were strapped to the legs of it, too. Just great, I thought, feeling around my wrists to see what I'd been secured with. I was pretty sure it was a combination of duct tape, police grade handcuffs and maybe also some cable-ties. It seemed a little excessive.

"Apologies for the binding overkill," a familiar voice cut through the darkness. "I figured it was better to be safe than sorry with you."

A light switched on.

As my eyes cleared, the hourglass silhouette of a tall women solidified in front of me, and I recognised her before I could see her properly. "Jacqueline Natla," I said with disgust. "Of course."

She bowed her head to me with a smile. She was playing with something in her hand, but I couldn't make out exactly what it was because of the position of the light. "I had hoped we would meet in more amiable circumstances, but my men tell me you didn't respond to any of my invitations."

Well, that wasn't true. "I did respond to them." At her raised eyebrows, I elaborated. "I laughed at them, threw them in the fire and then Sam and I toasted marshmallows to them." She laughed, and while she was laughing, something occurred to me. "Sam! Don't tell me you—"

She stopped. "_Please_," she said. "I don't need to _kill_ my competition to beat them. Your little girlfriend is still sleeping peacefully in your estate. Snoring, apparently. That must be annoying."

"It isn't." It was comforting. When I could hear her snoring, I knew she was alive.

"Anyway," Natla said, wandering toward me. "In case it wasn't obvious, I need you to do something for me."

"The answer is 'no'."

She feigned hurt. "Lara," she said, walking a full circle around me. "We both know when I tell you what I have in mind you'll _have_ to get it because you need to try and prevent me from getting my hands on it."

She brushed whatever she was holding against my forehead. It tickled, but I was careful not to move.

"There are these two gems known as 'The Eyes of the World' which are used to oversee the passage of time," she began. "Unfortunately, they're rather well guarded. That's where _you_ come in."

I sighed. "And I suppose if _you_ get your hands on them, they will allow you to take over the world?"

She completed her circle. "Of course," she said and then pretended to be touched by my assessment, putting a hand over her heart. "You know me so well."

While I was glaring at her, I realised she had the same bob cut she'd had when I last met her, but the brown dye had washed out. _That_ was odd. "Speaking of knowing you," I said, "Did you decide you don't need to constantly search for a 'fresh look' anymore? Or did you just finally reach that age where you stop caring about your appearance?"

She didn't look insulted in the slightest, she just reached into the pocket of her blazer. "You know how you blew up my headquarters in New York," she said mildly. "Well, I thought I'd experiment with something a little different this time."

She held out the compact mirror to me, and for a second I thought it was a trap so I flinched. After a moment or two during which she was still holding the mirror in front of my face, I gave her a suspicious glance and then looked into it.

At first, I wasn't sure what I was looking at, because all I could see was myself but with a split lip. I licked it. After a few seconds I realised I could see my face really well, which was unusual, because I normally needed to tie back my—

Oh, God. "_No!"_ I said, panicking. I tilted my head forwards, and then sideways; no fringe, no ponytail, just tufts of inch-long brown scruff. I gaped at my reflection for a few seconds, and then glared back up at her.

I was about to tell Natla all the ways in which Sam was going to _kill _her when I noticed the light was finally falling on the object she'd been playing with while she was talking to me.

It was my disembodied ponytail.

"How do you like your new look?" she asked innocently.


End file.
